Please keep up with their funny comments they literally make me cry with laughter. I saw someone shipping Roman and Sam? Wtf 😭😭
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Roman and I are sat cross legged on his bed, studying.
On. His. Bed.
I've never even been into his bedroom until earlier today when he walked into my room and demanded that I teach him 'how to school'.
"Bring your books in here then and I'll help," I said, patting my bed.
He just tilted his head towards his room and said, "My room."
I obliged.
So here we are, sat in his room. On his bed.
I let my eyes drift from the ink settled on the paper, and scan my eyes around his room for what must be the 1000th time.
When I walked in I was instantly suprised by the way it looked. I don't know what I was expecting. Probably something dark and gloomy, like his personality.
I was right, it's dark, but in a different way than I expected. Made up of oak wood and a rich coloured walls. Forest green plants are scattered throughout them room, and I'm honestly impressed he can keep them alive, every plant I've ever had has died in about a week.
The bed faces big glass doors leading out to a little balcony, with a beautiful view of the hills. Imagine waking up to that every morning.
It's pretty impersonal, almost looking like a hotel room. No pictures. No clutter.
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(I really, really struggled to find a picture of how I imagined his room so if you don't like this picture, just ignore it. Also I imagine it with plants and stuff too).
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But honestly, despite my fascination with finding out where the troll lives, I don't care about Roman's room as much as I expected to, not when my mind is elsewhere.
"You're making me nervous," he says.
"Why?"
"You're all fidgety and anxious. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I deny.
"You're biting your thumbnail. Something's wrong." he explains.
I lower my hand from my mouth, having not even realised it was there.
I paste a smile on. "Nothing."
"I hate that."
"What?"
"The fake smile shit," he grumbles.
I let my face drop with a sigh, "I'm worried about my brother, Kyle."
"Call him." He says, as though it's the simplest thing in the world, as though I hadn't thought of that.
"It's not that easy." I explain.
He inches closer to me, concerned, "Why?"
"My mum banned me from talking to him."
He starts laughing until he realises it's not a joke.
His face falls suddenly, "Your mother banned you from talking to your own brother? She can't do that. Can she?"
Oh, Roman, welcome to the world of my mother. She can do anything, apparently.
Nothing surprises me anymore. When I received a long ranting text message after I told Kyle a watered down version of the way our parents treat me, they were disgusted. They told me I was lying and manipulative. The funny thing is, I didn't even tell him the worst of it. I sent a reply, defending myself, but she'd blocked me. My own mother had blocked me.
"Only recently. Kyle and I were close a few years ago but my mother said I was 'poisoning his mind'."
What she meant by me 'poisoning his mind' is that I started telling Kyle the truth about my parents.
I laugh humourlessly at the ridiculousness of it.
"What?" Roman asks in disbelief, mouth agape.
"It was his birthday months ago and I still haven't given him his present." I sigh, upset. I know he'd love what I got him.
"Isn't it your birthday in three days?" He queries.
"How did you know?"
"You're a caprisun." He shrugs.
Does he mean Capricorn?
I shoot him a look saying, I don't believe you.
"Fine." He admits "I remember. From when we were kids."
"You remember that?" I ask.
He nods.
"Aww, Ro Ro," I grab his arm, "Who knew you were so-"
"Shut up," he shoves me off, but the corner of his lip is turned up.
I grab him again, "You're just so nice. Kind. And cute! That's the word, cute-"
Before I can even blink I'm flipped on my back, my hands are pinned above my head and one big hand is wrapped nearly all the way around my throat.
The movement was meant to be playful but I'm all to aware of how his weight is pressing down on me as he's settled between my legs, and in response my legs have instinctly wrapped around his waist.
I notice his eyes stray to where my t-shirt has slid up. I'm only wearing tiny shorts beneath.
We're both breathing heavily.
I drop my legs and try to push him off me, but my hands are still pinned so I have to push my body upwards, and end up just rubbing my chest against his.
He waits a beat longer and then releases me.
I'm expecting him to snap, the way he always does after he shows any outburst of emotion, and regrets it.
But he just smooths my hair out and returns to his English homework.
"What year was Shakespeare born?" He asks, picking up his pen, whilst I'm still lay down across his bed, breathless.
